


Every day was the last day

by MippenIII



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Winged Alexis | Quackity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MippenIII/pseuds/MippenIII
Summary: Turns out suppressing all hybrid traits to enforce a "no-flying" rule wasn't great for those that have not developed their traits yet.aka: Growing hybrid traits way later that you are supposed to isn't fun for anybody.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap (implied)
Kudos: 41





	Every day was the last day

**Author's Note:**

> We need a fandom tag, please this is ridiculous. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy my imagination. Gore go brrrrrrr

When he went to bed last night he was in perfect health, maybe even feeling motivated to begin reconstructing this hellhole of a server. He laid down comfortably next to a warm body, a second one snoring lightly a mere block away. Things were supposed to calm down. He was supposed to spend some quality time with his fiances while Dream could go fuck himself in prison. 

He woke up that morning with his partners gone. Karl regularly disappeared into his library for days on end. Sapnap had been stalling to visit Dream in Pandora's Vault and probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow evening. 

Ever since Dream got locked away, the very air seemed charged. Like when a storm is coming and the sky lies thick and heavy upon the land. A looming threat of change. A hand resting on a trigger, capable of going off at any moment. He felt it right into his bone marrow, intimate and buzzing. It built up and pressed between his shoulder blades in a dull ache. 

He swung a hoe to get rid of some red weeds and his back flared up in pain. The pain retreated quickly, but did not go away fully. Wonder if anyone on this shithole of a server is even remotely qualified to be a chiropractor? With his luck it was probably Technoblade, he must know a lot about bones.

00000

Later that evening, he took time to check his back. Standing shirtless in front of his bathroom mirror trying to crane his neck around enough to see his back. Somehow, his skin was bruised and splotchy, right around the edges of his shoulder blades. He pokes it and his back arches at the sudden burst of pain. 

“Puta madre espalda!” He swore.

The dull ache escalated within minutes, growing to a persistent throb. He began to feel lightheaded. Using the walls as support he made his way through the house to the bedroom. Dark spots danced in his vision. He lost his equilibrium and collapsed onto the bed, waiting for the spots to clear.

00000

When he woke, Quackity laid heavily on the bed, resting on his knees and elbows, curled into himself. Face in the sheets between his arms and back bare, pointing upwards. Half his back is just a giant bruise, red, painful and just a cluster of internal bleeding. His muscles tense hard as ancient rock, frozen in movement, trembling just slightly at the strain.

The pressure built further, stretching his skin outwards. Tendons and muscle bulge outward. And with a searing pain bone slowly teared through the flesh, and then skin. At first, just a small puncture where raw bone lay exposed to the air. A small trickle of warm blood runs down his ribs and falls, blooming crimson on the sheets. He grips the fabric tighter.

For a second the pain fades to a still constant numbness. Then it strikes like lightning from a heavy sky. The room fades away, and it's just him and his back tearing itself into shreds. He arches violently and something comes out of the wound. Bone and virgin flesh glides out and tears the laceration apart. 

Quackity has to force himself to let go of the sheets. His throat was sore. How long had he been screaming? He lies in a haze of pain and sheets soaked with red ichor. 

He closes his eyes not knowing if he will wake up.

(He does)

It takes three months for his new wings to grow their golden plumage. And another four for him to accumulate enough muscle to bear his weight in the air.


End file.
